


Grim Tidings

by Luthienberen



Category: Sherlock Holmes (US TV 1954)
Genre: Angst, Illnesses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 12:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18052253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: Sgt Wilkins bears terrible news about Doctor Watson to Inspector Lestrade. Consequently Holmes is in a state and it is up to Wilkins and Lestrade to do something.





	Grim Tidings

**Author's Note:**

> Short little entry written for the dreamwidth community watsons_woes’s monthly prompt “contagion”. Watson doesn’t appear in this but is the cause for all the concern.

* * *

 

 

Sergeant Wilkins burst into Lestrade’s office with eyes wide and clothes disarrayed.

“What on earth are you about man!”

“I am sorry Inspector, but you must come quickly!”

“Whatever for?” grumbled Lestrade as he eyed his overflowing paperwork.

“Doctor Watson is terribly ill and Mr Holmes is frantic to catch the perpetrator.”

Dread settled in Lestrade’s stomach. “How ill?”

“Well sir, I never knew Mr Holmes had a brother, but there he was, plain as day and with a top doctor for Doctor Watson was in a state. Shiny red face, fever high, moustache all drooping, lips pale and teeth oddly gleaming white. He was so listless! And Mr Holmes was clutching one of the doctor’s hands, while with his spare he was checking his notes and measuring ingredients to find a cure.”

Wilkins paused to catch his breath. The image of the doctor, lying on the couch, all life nearly gone from him was harrowing, even moreso because of Mr Holmes’ terrified reaction.

He forced himself to continue.

“Apparently they were chasing a criminal, Doctor Watson gave him what for, but suddenly collapsed. Mr Holmes caught him allowing the man to escape. Mr Holmes believes the man was the cause of the infection which appears to be artificial. He is insisting that his brother remain with Watson while he hunts down this person and forces out of him the antidote.”

Lestrade shot up and seized his coat and hat. This was serious.

“Summon all our available constables and explain to the Commissioner the situation. You can fill me in as we go. We must find this contagious criminal before he infects all of London.”

“And cure Doctor Watson,” added Wilkins as they left the office.

“That most of all, otherwise we will have two deaths to avenge.”

Sergeant Wilkins nodded grimly. It was something the Inspector and he had only once ever dared breath of, when alone on that blasted moor, waiting for a spectral hound to materialise. Doctor Watson had granted Mr Holmes a new lease on life and restrained the detective’s more impulsive nature when necessary.

They were exceedingly fond of each other and at this point, would only be shadows without the other.

In Mr Holmes’ case, Wilkins knew he would outlast the good doctor only long enough to avenge his death before following his doctor onto the grandest adventure of them all: whatever lay beyond this world and in the next.

Yet as they ran about gathering an alarmed bunch of constables – all hardy and true, Wilkins swore he wouldn’t allow that to happen. And, as he observed the grim faces of his fellow police men as they listened to Lestrade’s explanation and strategy in the face of this terror, he knew that he wasn’t alone in that sentiment.

All these men admired Mr Holmes and more than one was grateful to Doctor Watson for patching them up.

He nearly felt sorry for the criminal…nearly.

“Now hurry men,” urged Lestrade. “We don’t have a moment to waste. You know what is at stake: two men and potentially all of London.”

“Yes sir!” was the answering chorus.

Constables scattered every which way while Wilkins accompanied Lestrade to the Commissioner. They required all the support possible under the circumstances.

Only an hour later they found themselves in charge of a select group of men whose business was to know London better than any man alive…bar Mr Sherlock Holmes. Men with names that were unimportant and who you would never glance at a second time.

Ghosts really.

Perfect for the task at hand.

Wilkins checked his chin strap, readying himself for the job ahead. He was resolute in his determination to track down this creature who had caused all this  upset and unearth any underlying conspiracies that must be afoot, because men did not just wander about with fabricated illnesses for fun.

Still, this man would be fortunate if they caught him before Mr Holmes discovered his whereabouts, for little mercy could be expected. A cure was needed and Mr Holmes would not be gentle when Doctor Watson’s life was at risk.

“Ready?” he asked Lestrade who was pacing with worry.

“Of course I am,” muttered Lestrade.

“Shall we locate Mr Holmes first?” asked one of the shadow men.

Wilkins exchanged a look with Lestrade, but it was the Inspector who answered.

“Oh I think we will run across him at some point. I doubt for once that his trail will be hard to find.”

The man shrugged and said nothing in reply.

Without further ado, Wilkins led Lestrade and these shadows on a hunt to catch the most wanted and contagious man in London before it was too late.

 


End file.
